


honey whiskey

by formerlyking



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Song Inspired, SuperCorp, this isn't a happy ending im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 22:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20022211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/formerlyking/pseuds/formerlyking
Summary: All this time, the pressure of her dishonesty is what kept her from doing just what she said she wanted to do: be Kara. Yet this moment, this altercation, is what she will be remembered by tonight.Not Supergirl. Not Kara. No one. And even when that memory fades she will still be left with the haunted look on Lena’s face when she realized what she had said.inspo honey whiskey by nothing but thievesimplied supercorp





	honey whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on a whim and with the intention of never finishing it. im not really sure what im doing. this feels all over the place and i havent written anything in so long. let me know what i should do.

Kara Danvers was never the kind of person to shy away from opportunities to write the next big story. She had spent days and weeks hounding over minute details and intricacies to some of her best articles, even. After hammering out a bulky paragraph she would pat herself on the back and treat her endless stomach to a dozen cream filled donuts. This was like any other day, dress up, smooch with some of National City's finest not-too-rich people and do some investigating. Hopefully avoiding slip-ups and drink spilling or food choking in the process. Hopefully. 

It was just like any other day, but she knew. Her biggest, most stupendous blunder of them all was that _she knew._

Well, she knew that Lena knew that she knew, sorta. 

And that was the gobsmacking truth of the epic, novel-worthy, tragedy that was her life. _Lena knew_. About everything. Her deceit, the cape, the super powers, enemies and allies, all of it. And her lies had stacked up, the weight of them powerful even on her Super shoulders, threatening to topple her over. She glanced at them then, letting some air release from her tight, glossed lips, attempting to blow away the nonexistent hairs that had built up there. It wasn't that heavy, really, but she could have sworn she felt something there. 

She brushed up at it with her hand for good measure, finishing by smoothing out the blazer she had picked for the night. She took a look downwards, hands folding into her pockets, suddenly very conscious of her location. Standing outside the massive ballroom, she began to rethink her entrance strategy. What if she was kicked out? Couldn't they just turn her away as soon as they saw her sad, lost puppy eyes? She chides herself, Lena wouldn't do that. Even after what they've been through, she wouldn't stoop so low as to ban the reporter from of everything L-Corp related. And how could she? Kara nods to herself, there's no way Lena could be so spiteful, especially once she laid eyes on her tonight. Her self confidence was soaring as she beamed, stepping up to the doorman and offering her last name.

There was a slight breeze in the air, tossing any strands on the side of her face right into her glasses as she sputtered up at them. Right, _of course_. Rao forbid she look charming for one fucking night. She suppresses a sigh, curse words had started to become quite familiar to her inner vocabulary as of late. The doorman raises an eyebrow at her, but offers a small smile nonetheless, obviously recognizing her. He ushers her in, a firm, outstretched hand opening the entry and a quiet "Enjoy the catering, Ms. Danvers," slipping out.

Rolling her eyes, she makes her way in and immediately gets to work, scoping out her next informant. The tasty, tiny, delectables could wait. In the sea of dazzling gowns and tailored, firm-pressed suits, she spots a familiar face and decides she could use a pep talk. She speeds up her walk, a bounce in her step and a smirk emerges on her face as the two of them make eye contact.  


She butts into the conversation gracefully, "Evening gentlemen," her eyes never leaving her target, "Ms. Grant."

" _Kiera!_ Delighted to see you, was just telling the Marks' brothers about my newest prodigee. Not being you, of course."

Kara glances over at the siblings in question, smile faltering, "Uhm. Thanks?"

Cat looks at the two men as they grunt in affirmation. "Yes, you see, with me returning to Catco as CEO soon I found the compassion within me, deep down — _somewhere_ — to hire a new assistant."

Kara's eyes widen as she exaggerates a nod, "Oh, right! Yeah. Her." She reaches up for her glasses and hazards another glance at the men, "And I assume you want my advice as your... ex new...assistant."

Cat's smile finally reaches her eyes, "Oh yes, privately." She tilts her head, weaving her arm through Kara's bent one, and sends a tightened smile behind her, "Good night."

Kara chuckles, leading Cat away from her pursuers, "That looked mildly uncomfortable."

Relaxing, the older woman places her other hand on Kara's arm, "Mildly is not the word I would use to describe it, Kara." She discreetly leans them towards the side wall, feigning interest in the art donations adorning it. "Nevertheless, I'm glad you could whisk me away, Supergirl."

Kara coughs, loud and obvious, into her other hand, "You know, I think I'm coming to regret ever telling you about that."

Cat maneuvers them to the next piece, an abstract cheetah...or jaguar...some large cat. "Oh please, I knew long before you had the gall to confess to me. Actually, I'm inclined to believe you only have now because I'm going to be your boss again."

Shifting so she can see Cat’s face fully, she cringes, “You know that’s not it. I-I just couldn’t keep hiding it from you anymore. Even if you knew, it didn’t feel right.” Her chest falls with another sigh, “I’m so tired of the lies.”

“Spare me. Why are you so sensitive? I thought you were made of steel.” Cat slips out of her grasp this time, turning her gaze away. “Could it be?”

Kara, shaking her head in confusion, follows the direction of her boss’ eyes and attempts to swallow the lump in her throat that had been building up just _hearing_ that damn heartbeat nearby.

“Just like Kent, you allow women to tear down your confidence. It’s a pity.”

“Hey, Kal-Clark, he’s, ugh. His relationship with Lois is mutual and healthy and...lovely.” She looks back at Cat. “I would give anything to have that.”

Cat looks away from the billionaire across the way and wraps herself up in Kara again, moving them along as if the moment had never passed. “Yes. That may be true, but watching him flounder over her day after day without making a move was appalling. You’re allowing her that control over you, even when you’re not together. Lust becomes an infection, bleeding into other areas of your life. Tell me, why did you break the kidnapper’s finger yesterday? A mistake? A moment of anger? Your life as Kara Danvers should not alter how you operate as Supergirl.”

She’s quieter now, subdued, “T-that was an accident.”

They stop short of the last piece, rotating to be face to face. “Whatever it may be, it shouldn’t be happening. You and I both know the _influence_ of the situation.”

Kara looks up at an emptiness on the wall, blinking in thought. “I should have told her. It’s one of my deepest regrets in a very long time. I can’t believe she found out. No ...no I can, I just can’t understand it. How long she kept up the charade, pretended that we were still best friends, like I didn’t hurt her.” Their eyes meet again, Cat folding their hands together in sympathy. “And now...here I am at another L-Corp hosted ball, feeling out of place, like I can feel her pain across the room. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“Nonsense. Dull, gaudy, congested parties full of pockets stuffed with loose change is the perfect place for a young reporter. Don’t let her enigma pull you in, you have a job to do.”

They’ve turned and are finally looking at the last piece, an oil painting of a vast and empty grove, save for a lone apple tree in the foreground. It’s leaves are dim and weak, preparing to shed their weight for the harsh grasp of winter. 

“And if you must...just... _talk to her_.”

\--

If she had thought, even if for a moment, that Winn's clap on her back followed by a hearty "Good luck!” was just enough of the encouragement she would need for the night, she should have just flung herself into the nearest sun. Seriously, how could one night be so remarkably disastrous? Not only did she manage to spill _two drinks_ on a particularly snazzy looking women's shoes, she still had yet to try the miniature cucumber sandwiches she saw floating about the room. It wasn't until she stumbled over to the bar in a fit of desperation did she notice that most of her hair had fallen out of her bun and her shoes felt incredibly tight. 

Bending over in an attempt to loosen them, she bumps elbows with the patron slouched over beside her. And, as if on cue, the embodiment of misfortune itself had swooped into the room and carelessly dropped her onto a stool right next to her current unhealthy obsession.

"Oh, I'm-Ah...shit."

A well-manicured finger danced around the rim of a half empty glass, swirling as if to further melt the ice cubes floating in a dark whiskey. The owner of the impressively delicate hand lifts her head up from her other arm, raising an eyebrow in Kara’s direction.

“That’s new.”

Kara wets her lips, “My...W-what?”

The hand comes back down, grasping the glass and bringing it up to a blood painted mouth, taking a slow sip. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before.”

Lena won’t meet her eyes, perfectly content to stare down into her now empty cup as something dark lurks beneath. Kara tilts her nose up, her ear managing to catch just how _loud_ both of their heartbeats felt. She was tipsy, probably past that. “It’s...becoming a habit.”

The Luthor nods at that, finally lifting her head to gesture for another drink. Still unwilling to fully turn to Kara, but not a rejection of conversation either. She adjusts the strap of her dress, tugging it back up above her shoulder. The gold shimmers in the light at the movement, an almost perfect compliment to her jade eyes.

The reporter drags her gaze back up to her companion’s face, watching the bartender slide another drink on the marble. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

Lena chuckles lowly, without humor, “This is _my_ fundraiser, Kara. I don’t know what you would be expecting otherwise.”

“N-no! That’s not what I meant…” She brings her hands up in a meek defense, “It’s just that...I wasn’t planning to, er. Planning on seeing...talking...with you.”

At last, her chin turns, and her eyes flicker up. Kara’s chest tightens again, her mouth parting enough to suck in extra air. They lock eyes briefly, but Kara wishes she could hold it for just a second longer before the feeling falls away.

And it’s all she needs to know, really. They had been connected for so long that words were completely unnecessary. It spikes up inside her again —the guilt of knowing— and she feels worse than she did before, if at all possible. Lena had so much to say, yet so little to give. It was as if all their respect for one another had been stripped away, and what was left of their broken down relationship was torn pages and empty spaces. Kara closes her eyes, lips pressing together. She wishes there was one more line to their story...that there wasn’t this finality that she feels so deeply within her core. A “to be continued” or an ellipsis somewhere at the end of their book.

She’s begging the author for a sequel.

“You know I...had thought that coming here was going to be strictly business. That I could walk around pretending I’m here for the next breakthrough story. But I’m not. I’m here because you’re here.” She opens her eyes, noticing that Lena is looking directly into her now, fingers still tight around the glass on the counter. “That’s just it...I don’t care about anything else. I can’t think about anything else. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you, and what I had done...I’ve apologized over and over but I still feel that resentment. I don’t know what else to say anymore. What can I do?”

Lena blinks at her, the curiosity in her fading away and becoming something tainted. Her mind appears to be blank, devoid of any sensible thought that could have given Kara false hope. It’s back now, the dark, brooding emptiness she had seen far too many times this past month. Watery and absolutely tortured, she smiles, “I don’t know.”

The tears are running down her face now, and the room seems to be closing in on them. The fragility in Lena’s voice grounded her, and it’s becoming clear that she’s much more human than she had once thought.

Lena wipes at her own face, too. “I wish I could give you an answer, you deserve that. But I don’t have one.” She inhales a shaky breath, righting herself. “It pains me to think that I...my best friend...could lie to me, for so many years. And even knowing the risks, even knowing what your identity means, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Lena laughs bitterly, the tears gone now, something more agonizing appears on her face. “I don’t care. That’s really is the truth, Kara. I don’t care how you feel. Part of me is glad that you appear to be just as hurt as I am.”

Kara shakes her head, scraping her teeth together, devoid of any response other than a murmur of sadness.

“I know that’s the Luthor in me. We’re so spiteful. My brother may have gotten the last laugh, but I can walk away from this feeling proud of my tenacity. In a way, you could say it’s superhuman.”

Kara brings both her hands up to her face, tiredly wiping away the moisture. “That isn’t you. You’re so much more than that. You always have been. To me-”

“If I always meant so much more to you, how could you sit there...you sit there and tell me you’ve felt more yet continue to lie to me about half of your life!” Lena’s attempting to gather herself again, her composure slipping. “I...I want to believe you. _So badly._ But what you’ve done, it’s antithetical. Completely ludicrous!”

There’s a crack in her facade, threatening to spill over her eyelids and onto her cheeks. A vulnerability Kara always knew existed was there, and every bit of sadness was directed at her. She would have been flattered if in any other situation. “You know me! I-I couldn’t. There’s always so much more to it.”

Lena is seething, nostrils flaring, “If I knew you, we wouldn’t be having this altercation. I-I can’t believe you.”

Kara’s hands are shaking and her bottom lip quivers. There’s words jumbled up in her mouth, caught in her throat, she wants to fucking vomit. “I just wanted you...to be just _mine._ Just Kara’s and nothing else.”

Lena scoffs, “How fucking possessive.”

“No! I didn’t want you to see me any differently than who I am. Goddammit, I just wanted to be me with you.” 

“And that involves not showing me _all of you?!”_

She stands up now, almost toppling over in her haze. Kara quickly jumps up, hands ready to save her from a fall. Lena pierces her with a glare in return. “Coming here, making a fool of me, I should be livid. I’m not. I’m disappointed. It’s sad to see you wallow, shriveled up and begging for forgiveness. That’s not you. You’re Supergirl.” 

It’s only now does Kara notice the sets of eyes watching them, from all around the room in different directions. She had caused a scene, and despite their hushed conversation, people looked on in pity. The poor reporter. The timid, young blonde—once a friend of Lena’s— being struck down on display for the world to see. She clenches her hands into fists and drops them to her sides, the tabloids were going to be a fucking mess to deal with in the morning. There’s a sliver of a moment, when their eyes dance in the fire of anger, that she can see through it. Lena’s cynicism was never the catalyst. The grudge that she sees now was there all along, secret identity or not. Lena’s rage is her passion, and her love drove every action. Her feelings cloaked her, her defense against the now-quite-obvious truth. She felt her love was unrequited.

Lena’s tongue slips out to wet her lips, preparing for another onslaught, but she’s halted. A hand appears on her shoulder, it’s a young woman Kara swears she’s seen before. The woman leans into Lena’s ear, hastily informing her of the situation, Kara doesn’t let herself listen. It feels wrong, all of it does, like she doesn’t deserve to have her powers any longer. Lena looks around, finally seeing the mutterings of the attendees around them, eyes wide.

She loops her arm with her ally, cautioning a look at Kara. “I’m thinking of revoking Catco’s access to L-Corp proceedings from now on. It’s unprofessional.” She steels herself, head held high and eyes swimming. “Or just reporters in general, they always cause a scene.” 

And with that, she floats away, bobbing and weaving as the crowd parts before her, utterly silent.  


It takes a second for Kara to realize the weight of her lie is what rests upon her shoulders. All this time, the pressure of her dishonesty is what kept her from doing just what she said she wanted to do: be Kara. Yet this moment, this altercation, is what she will be remembered by tonight. Not Supergirl. Not Kara. No one. And even when that memory fades she will still be left with the haunted look on Lena’s face when she realized what she had said.

Indistinctly, the party picks back up, continuing on into boring monotony. Kara shuffles away, without a sound, becoming a pretty face in the background of the evening. 

\--

The door slid shut behind her with a click, her back leaning up against it as she sighs in relief. The tension from the night had caught up to her on the flight back, and the bravado she once carried fell flat. Her chest sagged as she sunk further into the door, phone briefly vibrating into it from her back pocket. She blinks once — _twice_ — and swiftly pulls it out, unlocking it without checking the contents of the text message. 

She slides down to the floor, knees brought in against her chest as her hand grips tighter to the device. Hope entirely dashed, she takes a long breath to try and calm the sinking feeling she had felt the entire night. She clenches her jaw, her insides coiling up as she rereads the line again and again. In a final fit of frustration, she throws her phone across the apartment. It hits her couch with a thud and bounces on to the carpet. 

"Shit."

The heroine clenches her eyes shut and leans her head back against the door, defeated. She lets out a stifled, dry sob and decides she's tired of being Super.

* ~ _"The next time you decide to show up to one of my events unannounced, bring the cape."_ ~


End file.
